Jenna's Test
by Nontacitare
Summary: Disclaimer: I did not invent the characters of Jenna, Justarius, Dunbar, or Dalamar.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story with chapters. You'll get the rest of the chapters if I don't have technical difficulities uploading them.

I invented a last name for Justarius and Jenna because, well, they need one. If anyone happens to know if they have a cannonical surname, please tell me.

It was stiflingly hot for spring at Wayreth that day of the open audience of the Conclave. Most of Krynn assumed that the Conclave only met to discuss matters of near mythic proportions, but those assembled knew better. Three times a year the Heads of the Orders would convene an open Conclave for any who had business with the Tower of Wayreth. This was the time when mages and denizens of the Tower, peasants from the villages beholden to Wayreth, and nobles with magical alliances would come to discuss taxes and tithes, grievances and counter-grievances, contracts made and contracts broken.

Amidst the gathered throng sat a red-robed mage. The mage's hood was up, and the robe itself was nondescript, with no runes or insignia to mark the rank or position of the mage. The red-robe sat quietly, observing the proceedings, and doing nothing to draw attention.

The three Lords of the Conclave were seated in high-backed carved wooden chairs on a raised dais facing the crowd of petitioners on wooden benches. To the left of the Head of the Conclave sat Dalamar Nightson of the Black Robes, who was openly bored with the proceedings. He was leaning back in his chair, idly dancing a coin across his fingers, and occasionally interjecting a sharp question towards a petitioner. Of those in the Hall, perhaps only the red-robed observer kenw how much of Lord Dalamar's indifference was in truth a mask which served the Conclave's purposes.

To the right sat Dunbar Mastermate of the Order of White Robes, who was trying, and failing, to appear attentive. Though he was the most powerful wizard of his order, he felt ill at ease on the land, prefering instead his floating Tower on the sea.

Only the man in the center appeared calm, focused, in control. His robe was of the same color as the observer's own, although of a much finer cloth. His black and silver hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Only the red-robed petitioner recognized that Justarius Deleon, Leader of the Conclave of Wizards, was just as bored as his fellows.

Well, that was about to change.

The majordomo, standing to the side of the room, called for the next petitioner to come forth. The red-robed mage stood, walked to the front of the Hall, and bowed low to the men on the dais.

"Please state your name and your purpose for coming before the Conclave," the majordomo intoned.

"An it please my Lords," rang out a clear, strong, and unmistakeably female voice, "I wish to petition the Conclave to take my Test." The woman pushed back her hood, revealing a head of golden hair neatly pulled up in a bun. "My name is Jenna Deleon."

The room went silent, save for the sound of the coin that had fallen, forgotten, from Dalamar Nightson's fingers and was clattering on the marble floor. Dalamar turned and raised an eyebrow to Dunbar Mastermate, who shrugged his shoulders. Jenna had kept her plans well-hidden. She looked calmly at her father, who was plainly furious.

"How dare you?" Justarius hissed icily. "You will take the Test when we summon you - when _I_ summon you - and not before. Of all the impertinent -"

"With respect, my lord," Jenna broke in smoothly, "I am well within my rights to petition to take the Test."

"You're only 21 years of age! The right of petition is for older mages who feel they're ready _and_ who have a letter from a wizard in good standing who can attest to their skill level."

"I have that," the young woman replied. She reached into her sleeve and with a floruish produced a sealed letter. "A missive from my teacher, Mistress Rasilas, attesting to my skills as a mage and declaring that I've been ready for my Test for the past two years." She walked coolly to the dais and presented the letter to her father who, glaring, refused to take it. Dalamar Nightson, with an exasperated sigh, finally broke the stalemate by taking and opening the letter.

"It is as she says, Justarius," the black-robe commented. "The missive is in Mistsress Rasilas' hand and with her seal."

"That matters not," Justarius snarled, eyes still locked with his daughter's. "As the Head of Jenna's order, _I _decide when she's ready, and I say she's not."

Dunbar laid his hand on Justarius' arm. "Perhaps we should confer in private."

Jenna stood still as a marble statue, betraying no emotion, as the three Conclave Lords withdrew to a corner. She was unable to hear what they were saying, but she could see first Dunbar and then Dalamar speak insistantly to her father. Were they both championing her then? Her father, who unfortunately was the head of her order, looked most displeased.

At last the three men returned to their chairs. The Head of the Conclave spoke coldly. "Jenna Deleon, do you agree to abide by our decision, whatever it may be?"

"I do, my lord," Jenna answered, her calm demeanor at odds with her racing heart.

"We deny your petition." Justarius looked at Jenna, who lowered her eyes to hide her confusion and frustration. "The Conclave further commands your presence before us in six months time so that you may be Tested." Jenna's head shot up. "Be warned, Mistress, that the penalty for failure is death."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you!"

"I am not finished." Justarius paused. "Your tuteledge under Mistress Rasilas is at an end, since it seems she has nothing further to teach you. For the next six months, you will study with Lord Dunbar Mastermate in preparation for the Test and, should you live, you will contract with him as his apprentice. Lord Dalamar Nightson will administer the Test. Do you agree to these conditions?"

"I do, my lord," Jenna answered. She'd hoped to continue her studies with Mistress Rasilas, or perhaps travel to Palanthas to study at Lord Dalamar's Tower. Shipboard life did not appeal to her, but at least Justarius had not demanded that she be apprenticed to _him_. That would be untenable.

"Very well, then," snapped Justarius. "This session of the Conclave is adjourned."

Immediately the hall fell to murmuring. Jenna let out a deep breath. She was to be Tested! She couldn't quite believe she'd pulled it off.

Lord Dunbar hurried over to her amidst the bustle of the hall. "Do you know that you can die?" he demanded.

"Yes, my lord," Jenna replied patiently. "Those who wish to study the deepest magics must be prepared to sacrifice everything, unto their very lives, for the priviledge."

"We have a lot of work ahead of us. I'll expect to see you outside of the North Tower at dawn tomorrow."

"I shall be there."

Dunbar looked at her with new-found respect. Jenna kenw he'd not thought much of her after she broke with his son. But he now addressed her as a fellow mage. "What you did today took great courage." Someone called his name. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and then walked away.

Lord Dalamar approached her and asked, "Do you know that you can die?"

With a sigh, Jenna answered, "Yes, my lord. Those who wish to study the deepest magics must be prepared to sacrifice everything, unto their very lives, for the priviledge."

"There are worse things than death," the dark wizard continued. "You know what happened to your father. And I've seen many a beautiful woman survive the Test only to curse the sight of her own face in a mirror."

"Did such considerations give you pause, my lord?" Jenna asked, studiously innocent.

The dark elf raised an eyebrow. "Are you calling me vain, young woman?"

"Not at all. I simply wished to point out that you let nothing stand in your way in your pursuit of magic. Nor shall I."

Dalamar's lips twitched slightly. "Very well, then. I shall see you in six months' time." He turned to go, and then abruptly turned back. "Very well-played, Mistress." And the Head of the Order of Black Robes bowed to her before striding from the hall.

Jenna tried to surpress her smile. That was a rare honor indeed. All in all, the day had progressed much better than she had anticipated. Then she caught sight of her father stalking towards her. If he asks me if I know that I can die, I'll scream, she thought to herself, but schooled her expression into one of neutratlity.

Justarius didn't stop, but slowed down long enough to say in a controlled voice, "You _will_ have dinner with your mother and I this evening." The angry tapping of his staff as he limped out of the hall beat a harsh staccatto on the marble floor, cutting through the chatter of the room.

Later that evening, as Jenna approached Justarius' apartments, she felt quite pleased with herself. She'd managed to circumvent Justarius and gain permission to take the Test!

It was with this air of confidence that Jenna knocked on the door, only to have it yanked open by her mother, who immediately demanded, "Do you know that you can die?"


	2. Chapter 2

Jenna's Test, Chapter 2

Jenna walked along the outer causeway of Wayreth that autumn morning from the guest quarters. It had been Dalamar's suggestion that Jenna move from the student quarters to a guest room the day before the Test. For most aspiring mages, Wayreth was a magical, mystical destination that became part of the quest, and indeed Test, that the student must acheive to aquire greater knowledge. For Jenna, however, Wayreth was familiar - perhaps dangerously so. As much as Jenna grasped the dangers of the Test intellectually, emotionally she might still feel safe in Wayreth, which would spell her doom. And so Lord Dalamar had sent word that in anticipation of the Test, Jenna should leave her familiar, spartan room, and finish her preparations in a wing which hitherto had been barred to her.

As the student mage continued her short journey, she breathed in the crisp autumn air. It was hard to believe that this might be the last day Jenna would ever see. She'd said her good-byes to her parents the previous evening. Seeing the tears well up in her mother's eyes had been especially hard for Jenna. It had been that, more than even the six months being drilled and worked to exhaustion by Lord Dunbar, that finally brought home the reality of what she was undertaking. But of course Jenna had come too far to back out now.

She brushed those thoughts aside. For the rest of her sojourn around the edge of Wayreth, Jenna prayed to Lunitari; a centering devotional that left the red-robe calm, emotionless, and in control. It was in this state that she arrived at and entered the outer building where Tests were administered.

Jenna was surprised to see the outer foyer empty of people. She'd have expected to see some sort of guard. After all, the Conclave wouldn't want just anyone wandering in. But perhaps...Jenna allowed all thoughts to slip from her mind and opened herself to the magic. Ah, yes. There it was. She could just barely perceive the magic that shimmered around the door. Jenna had entered only because she'd been permitted to do so.

The student mage glanced around the room. It was bare of all furnishings, with nondescript wood-paneled walls. The chamber was smaller than Jenna would have expected, given the size of the building. There were no doors or windows, the only light coming from candles ensconced on the walls.

Where was everyone? Jenna knew that there were two other candidates to be Tested today. She had not arrived late, but wasn't unreasonably early, either. It made no sense that she should be alone.

Jenna was struck by the sudden fear that she was in the wrong place or the wrong time. What if she missed the Test? Would she be allowed to take it at another time?

That thought was immediately replaced by a second, more profound fear that unexpectedly left her cold. What if this was the Test? Dunbar's warning came back to the young mage. "The Test takes place in your mind. It is an illusion, but no mere illusion, for anything that happens to you in the Test happens to you in truth. Above all, do not question the reality in which you find yourself. It is at the precise moment of piercing the illusion that most aspirants die. You must completely and utterly believe what you are experiencing."

The normally imperturbable Jenna let out a shaky breath. Well, the young mage thought wryly, if this is the Test, then she had already broken the most important rule. There was nothing for it but to proceed.

Jenna paused to examine her situation. Why was she there? To take the Test. Was she in the right place and at the right time? The young woman had to admit that it did not seem likely. What was her duty in this matter? To find the Test.

Jenna looked around the room again with narrowed eyes. She knew she had not mistaken Master Dalamar's words as to the time and place. She should be here, but not be here. That would seem to indicate...a hidden chamber, perhaps?

The red-robed mage closed her eyes and visualized the outbuilding as she had seen it from the casement. She then superimposed upon that image the chamber in which she was standing. When she opened her eyes, Jenna strode unerringly to the center of three panels. She began to knock on each panel, her ear close to the wall. Ah, yes. There it was. Jenna stepped back in satisfaction as she gazed upon what she presumed to be the door. Now, all that remained was to find the opening mechanism.

There wasn't much that could be used to trigger the door, thought Jenna, as she observed the smooth wood panels and floor. Indeed the only objects that broke the monotony of the chamber were the iron candle sconces on the walls.

Jenna smiled suddenly. It couldn't be that easy. She examined the sconces on either side of the panel she'd identified as the door, and yes, there was something different about the the one on the left. She grasped the candle and gently tried to remove it.

The candle would not come out of its holder, but the holder itself seemed to be loose inside the sconce. There was clearly some sort of mechanism at work. Jenna slowly twisted the metal holder and then stopped abruptly as an unsettling thought came to her. This was far too easy. What if the purpose of the sconce were more sinister than serving as a mere door handle? Jenna put her ear close to the sconce as she turned it ever so slightly, and heard a very faint hiss. Heart pounding, the mage sniffed, and immediately turned her head from the acrid smell. Hastily she screwed the metal holder in as tightly as she could, and then stepped back, shaken.

"I'll have to be more careful," Jenna muttered. She stepped back into the center of the chamber, and glanced at the floor. It was wooden, with no discernable pattern or design beyond the seeming randomness of the wood grain. Might the mechanism be in the floor?

Wishing to avoid another trap, Jenna reached into one of her pouches and pulled out a small bar of iron. Cautiously she threw it out on the floor before the wall panel in question. Nothing happened. The red-robe stepped gingerly towards the wall, and began tapping her boot around the floor.

After a while, Jenna stopped in frustration. There was no sign of any floor mechanism. Yet she was sure that the route to her destination lay beyond that panel.

The red-robed mage winced at the obviousness of the answer that came to her finally. She could create her own door. Ruefully, Jenna produced chalk from another of her pouches, retrieved the piece of iron from the floor and returned it to its home, and approached the wall. She carefully and precisely drew a door in chalk, closed her eyes, and mentally and physically pushed against the wall...

And fell into a richly furnished, sunny antechamber, to the astonisment of the two men who were seated there.

"Good day, gentlemen," Jenna said coolly, trying to recover her lost dignity.

"Uh, are you here to take the Test?" asked a white-robed man who looked to be in his late 20s.

"I am," she replied. "I presume you are also?"

"Yes. I must say, Mistress, that you chose a most interesting manner of entrance. We simply used the door."

Jenna glanced around the room until her eyes lit upon a proper entrance, with a major domo standing in front of it, staring straight ahead. Why had she been made to struggle for entrance, when these two applicants had merely strolled through the front door?

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" Jenna inquired.

A plainly dressed man in his mid-thirties answered, "Hardly. I'm surprised I survived Wayreth forest."

Ah. Jenna had never been expected to undertake the quest to find Wayreth, so Dalamar must have concocted that little game for her to make up for it.

Jenna began to feel genuine aprehension. If the black-robed wizard was so devious in simply arranging her arrival this day, what would the Test he'd designed for her hold in store?


	3. Chapter 3

It had been five years since Jenna had taken her Test, and only now was she on her first Conclave mission. Jenna and her companion had been riding for hours, and the sorceress, who was unused to such activity, found herself in some discomfort. She glanced over at the black-robed elf, who showed no similar signs of distress, and strenghtened her resolve to hide her own aches and pains.

Jenna had naturally been tought how to ride a horse, but had always done so side-saddle. Such a thing was impractical on this mission, for which speed was of the utmost importance. She disliked the red split tunic and trousers she wore, feeling them...inelegant. Nonetheless, she had to admit their practicality.

Dalamar slowed his horse until Jenna was beside him. "Not quite what you expected for your first Conclave mission, eh?"

"It is my privilege to serve where and how I'm needed," Jenna responded. "Of course, I would not object if my next assignment were in a well-apportioned inn and requiring to more travel than could be accomplished by teleportation."

Dalamar smiled wryly. "I'll see what I can arrange."

Jenna decided to take advantage of this rare moment of camaraderie to ask the question that had been weighing on her since yesterday. "Did you know any of them?"

"Not well. They were Qualinesti." The dark wizard spurred his horse faster, ending the conversation.

Dalamar and Jenna had been sent out to discover what had happened to a missing party of travelers from the Qualinesti House Mystic. Neither had been prepared for the utter carnage they stumbled across in that meadow yesterday morning. The party of Elven mages had been literally torn apart. After the gruesome task of searching for clues as to what, or who, had done this - (_the severed arm)_, they had determined that it would be impossible to gather all the body parts together for burial, and Dalamar had called down fire to burn the entire meadow. Jenna had been profoundly shaken, and though she had not known any of the party, she could feel, inexplicably, waves of grief threatening to break through to her conscious mind. (_The scream! _But there had been no scream.) Dalamar had been grimly silent from that day to this as they followed the trail of the men - men, not beasts - that had done this. On her first Conclave mission, Jenna found herself unexpectedly pressed into the role of assasin.

At length they came to a village, one of several which were beholden to Wayreth but did not appear on any map. Jenna gasped. (_She had been here before.)_ Dalamar looked at her sharply. "Are you all right, Mistress?"

The mage shook her head to clear it. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Have you been here before?"

"No, I've never seen this village before in my life." And it was true. She had never been here before. So why did she feel she had lied?

Dalamar kept his piercing gaze on her for a long moment before he finally said, "We should enter the village."

As they continued down the main road, Jenna was struck by the furtive, suspicious glances of the villagers toward the mages. This would not be unexpected in most of the villages on Krynn, but on a demesne of Wayreth it was shocking. Surely Jenna and Dalamar weren't the first mages the villagers had ever seen.

Some intuition caused Jenna to turn. For no discernable reason, her heart began pounding and her throat went dry. "Her," was all Jenna could manage, pointing to a wasp-faced middle aged woman in a stall selling produce. Dalamar immediately stopped his horse and dismounted in one fluid, graceful movement. He strode towards the produce-seller with complete confidence in Jenna's assesment, although Jenna knew he didn't know why Jenna had singled out the woman.

"The necklace," Jenna blurted. The sorceress wondered whatever was the matter with her. Everything felt...unreal, wrong.

"Ah, yes," the black-robed wiard commented as he approached the stall.

"Go away," the woman hissed. "We don't want your kind here."

"My kind?" Dalamar raised an eyebrow and smiled pleasantly. "And what, Mistress, is 'my kind'? Elven? Wizard? Black-robe?" His voice darkened. "Powerful?" The peasant woman seemed at a loss for words, and began to back away. Dalamar raised his hand, and she froze.

"You seem to be doing very well for yourself, Mistress," he continued converstionally. As swift as a snake, he reached out over the stall and grabbed the silver necklace she was wearing, yanking her towards him. "A lovely piece of jewelry. Elven make, if I'm not mistaken. I had no idea turnip vendors were so wealthy." He glanced back at Jenna. "Perhaps we should change professions, my dear." Abruptly he returned his attention to the terrified peasant woman. "Where - did - you - get - this?" he asked in a cold voice, all mocking gone.

"Don't know. I found it," she squeaked. "Let go, pig!" she tried to swat his arm away.

The black-robed wizard's eyes narrowed. "I am on the Council of Three at Wayreth, which makes me your liege lord. You will address me as such." His grip on the necklace tightened, forcing the produce seller to lean forward over the cart. "Now where did you get this necklace?"

"It was a gift, my lord," the peasant stammered.

"From whom?" As Dalamar continued the interrogation, Jenna experienced the strangest sort of vertigo. She was watching the scene from atop her horse, but also from Dalamar's perspective. Yet she could not, no matter how long she stared at it, truly see the necklace. Its very shape eluded her. Jenna's hand strayed unconsciously toward her won neck to feel for an item of jewelry...that she was not wearing; that she had never worn.

"I sense, Mistress, that you are keeping secrets." Jenna came back to herself and realized that Dalamar was still speaking to the peasant woman. "Secrets can be terrible things. They writhe inside you, choking off the very air from your lungs." The terrified woman began gasping for breath. "The only remedy is to release the secret."

Jenna looked intently upon the tableau, trying to read any stray thoughts escaping from the peasant. Suddenly the mage called out, "Dalamar, I have it! The man who gave her that was one of a group of men who are in the tavern of this village as we speak!" Dalamar raised an eyebrow and abruptly released the street vendor, who fell to the ground gulping for air.

The wizard nodded to Jenna, and then turned back to his victim. "Could you direct us to the local tavern, my good woman?"

"P-please, milord," said a frightened vendor in the vicinity who had been crouching behind his own booth the entire time. "It's down the main road but a quarter mile."

"I thank you," replied Dalamar as he swung back up on his horse. Without another word, he and Jenna continued along the main road.

As they neared the place, they could hear raucous laughter from inside the rudely contructed wooden building - an odd sound for the middle of the day. Dalamar drew his horse up to Jenna's. His expression was grave.

"These men are likely the killers, but I doubt such as they would have the courage or initiative to embark upon the foul and dangerous crime they committed unless they were ordered to it. We need to find out who is behind this." Dalamar's eyes bored into Jenna's. "Can you do what must be done?"

"The men in that building slaughtered mages - my people. I am sworn to protect al who are aligned to Wayreth. I am prepared to - to do whatever is necessary to find out who is behind this." Jenna's voice was steady, but inwardly she found herself trembling with fear. What was wrong with her? She knew a day might come when she would have to kill, and this was merely justice. So why was she so reluctant to step foot in that tavern?

"Very well, then." Dalamar dismounted, and then held a hand to Jenna to help her from her horse. The act seemed to Jenna incongruous - a courtly gesture from a man about to torture and kill a building full of people. After she dismounted, they tied the reigns of their horses to a nearby tree, away from the horses nearer the tavern. They proceeded towards the door with Dalamar going first and entered.

The tavern, such as it was, reeked of sweat and ale. There was only one room with a dirt floor, and only one door, which stood behind Dalamar and Jenna. There were perhaps twenty human men, all heavily armed and rough-looking, though their clothing and accoutrements were of surprisingly good quality. As far as Jenna could tell, there were no locals, nor even the tavern-keeper, for the man serving the ale drank as much as he poured, and the jeweled sword at his side belied the lowly profession of tavern-keeper. So much the better. There were no innocents in the room.

At first the mercenaries didn't notice the newcomers, but then one saw the mages at the door and alerted his fellows. Suddenly every eye was fixed upon the mages at the door.

One of the mercenaries, whose velvet cloak marked him as being of some wealth, slowly stood up and drawled, "Well, now. Come to join the fun?"

Dalamar stepped forward, leaving Jenna to guard the door. "That all depends. What...fun...is there to be had?"

"For you, elf, none. I'm sure we could provide the lady with entertainment, however." Malicious laughter rippled through the room. "We don't like Wayreth folk. But I bet if we get rid of that robe for her she's a woman like any other."

Jenna blocked out all the commotion and focused on the spell she was weaving so subtly that it did not attract attention, even when she was being directly threatened.

Dalamar's voice was pleasant as he smoothly replied to Velvet Cloak, "Ah, well, I'm afraid I cannot permit that. The lady's father would never forgive me if I allowed her to witness such...entertainments."

"You think you could stop us, elf? We slew fifty of your kind not two days ago. Wizards don't scare us."

Dalamar raised an eyebrow. "A confession so soon? And so freely given. I had thought that I would have to be more persuasive with you. But as you are so talkative, tell me, my good man, who is it that hired you?"

Velvet Cloak smiled and called out to his men, "Ten gold pieces and the second turn with the witch to the man who brings me the black-robe's ears."

"Dalamar," Jenna said sharply. "The spell is finished." The tavern seemed to ripple almost imperceptibly as Jenna's spell sealed the door. The only way anyone would leave would be at Jenna's word - or her death.

"Thank you, my dear." Dalamar brought his right hand up in a dramatic gesture and made a fist. Velvet Cloak grabbed his chest and fell to his knees in agony. No one moved save the man now writhing on the dirt floor. At last he fell still, his now lifeless eyes remaining open.

"I asked a question," Dalamar continued calmly as he surveyed the room. "Who was it that hired you?"

Now leaderless, the men in the tavern muttered to one another and reached for weapons. Outwardly cold, Jenna centered herself with a silent prayer to Lunitari. The thoughts of the men swirled around like a cloud of locusts - too chaotic, angry and frightened to hold much sense in them. Jenna realized that she and Dalamar would have to thin the crowd and concentrate on the few individuals who might be able to give the answers they sought.

She spun around at a yelp behind her. One of the men had tried to sneak out the door, only to be pushed back by Jenna's shield. He skittered away from the sorceress as quickly as he could. The mercenaries reacted with alarm as one by one they realized they were trapped.

"You are prepared for this, Mistress?" Dalamar spoke to her in Silvanesti.

"I am," she replied calmly in the same tongue. "Proceed."

Her word released the paralysis that had lain upon the tavern. The mercenaries drew their weapons and attacked. With an inhuman speed and grace Dalamar savaged the horde, using his daggar as much as his magic. His emotionless, icy calm was terrible to behold.

Jenna did not have much time to watch. While most of the men seemed to have identified the black-robed wizard as the greatest threat, a few had apparently worked out that Jenna was responsible for their imprisonment in this tavern that had become a slaughterhouse. She barely had time to think before committing her first murder...second...third...fourth...

At last Jenna had no more opponents. The fighting seemed to last for hours, but Jenna realized with a start that it had only begun twenty minutes earlier. Now that she had a moment to catch her breath, the sorceress took stock of her surroundings. There were more dead than alive in that tavern. The stench was such that the bile rose in Jenna's throat. Only six mercenaries were left alive, and they were terrified, desperate, with their attention focused on the black-robed monster in their midst. Jenna glanced at the bodies of the men she had killed, and then quickly looked away. She had studied physiology, of course, and had been taught to both cure and kill. But theory and practice were quite...distinct. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her. I have taken lives, she thought with despair. And for what? She had been able to get nothing from the mercenaries. There was, as both Dalamar and Jenna had expected, a block on certain memories, but something else was not quite right.

Jenna realized then that these men were making foolish mistakes. They were not behaving as fighters experienced in battling mages, an odd thing for the company which had massacred over two score of mages for the Qualinesti House Mystic. Whatever charms had protected them from the Qualinesti elven wizards seemed not only to have faded, but to have been replaced by counter-charms leaving them woefully undefended against mages of the calibre of Dalamar and Jenna. Whoever had hired them did not mean for them to survive.

Only five human men remained. This was no longer a battle. It was now time to exert whatever pressure was necessary to discover the source of the attack against House Mystic. Jenna grimly confined the innocent young woman she had once been to a small, still cell in the back of her mind and turned to the task at hand.

The surviving mercenaries were more terrified of their mysterious employer than they were of their captors. No bribery, assurances, threats or ...harsher methods...could persuade them to talk. Nor was it possible to penetrate the shields around their minds. Efforts to do so lead to the deaths of the victims.

"Well, that's it, then," Jenna said, grateful that she remained calm and her voice didn't shake. "There's no one left to question."

"Not quite," the black-robed wizard responded. He grabbed hold of an overturned wooden table and flung it across the room. "Your turn, lad," he said in an almost playful tone. A terrified boy of about fifteen years crouched on the dirt floor. His clothes were ragged and he had no weapon save for a small daggar that was sheathed, forgotton, on his belt. This boy clearly was no mercenary.

"Now, my boy," Dalamar continued in silken tones. "I trust you are wiser than your fellows. Who is it that hired you?"

"P-please, my lord. I don't know. I'm not important enough to be told anything!" Tears streaked the boy's dirty face.

"Surely you must have some idea. Did not someone outside your band come to speak with your leader? Where were you before coming to this part of Abisinia? What were your orders?"

"I don't know!" cried the boy.

"Liar!" Dalamar snarled, and back-handed the youth.

"My lady, please!" the boy turned to Jenna with frightened eyes. (_My lady, please!)_ The words cut through Jenna, reminding her of...of what? She stood frozen to the spot.

"Do not look to the lady for mercy," Dalamar said coldly. "She and I are of one purpose in this." He began chanting a spell, a dark, cruel spell designed to make the youth do anything to make it stop.

Jenna stepped forward and laid her hand on the wizard's arm, interrupting him. "Wait, Dalamar. Let me."

His eyes were hooded, unreadable. "Very well, Mistress. You may try."

The sorceress knelt by the boy. "How are you called?"

"Egon, my lady," the boy stammered.

"You needn't be afraid, Egon," she said gently. "Tell us what we want to know and no harm will come to you." She reached out to touch his cheek, and was startled when Egon violently recoiled. Jenna looked at her hand for the first time. Blood was dripping from her fingertips.

Jenna felt dizzy. _(The bloody hand was reaching out to her, and the sleeve was black.)_

Jenna took a deep breath. She must focus! She could feel Dalamar's cold eyes staring at her, staring into her.

"Egon," she began again, "where are you from?"

"I don't rightly know, m'lady. I've just travelled with my father for as long as I can remember." His father. Likely one of the mercenaries lying dead in the room.

"Were you a killer like him, boy?" Dalamar cut in. "Did your sword cut into elven flesh?"

"No, my lord! I don't even have a sword! I just set up camp and tend the fire and fetch and carry. I took no part in -" He abruptly fell silent.

"No part in what, Egon?" Jenna urged. "Were you there in the clearing between Wayreth and Qualinost?"

"I don't know where those places are!"

"She means the massacre of the elven mages, boy!" Dalamar snapped.

"Egon," Jenna murmured. "Why were they killed?"

"I - I - " The youth fell silent, shivering.

"Tell us what you know," Jenna said urgently.

"I cannot!"

"Are you afraid? I promise I'll protect you. We just need to know who ordered the attack."

"This is ridiculous," Dalamar interrupted. "You cannot simply _ask_ the boy to tell us what he knows and expect an answer. You've had your chance. He's mine now."

"Dalamar, no. I just need a little more time," she pleaded.

"Stand aside, Mistress." The black-robed wizard's voice was icy.

Jenna rose, shielding Egon from Dalamar. Her countenance was aloof, even haughty, but inwardly she trembled. "You cannot have this boy."

"Do not defy me, young one." The endearment was a taunt. "You cannot hope to win."

"This lad has done nothing wrong. There are less...savage...ways of convincing him to help us."

"I am the voice of Wayreth here. You _will_ obey, or be counted among Wayreth's enemies."

"What you propose to do is _not_ the will of Wayreth," Jenna retorted.

"I warn you one more time, Mistress." Dalamar had become oddly calm. "If you fight me you will die. Now stand asi..."

A tavern chair moving of its own volition slammed into Dalamar's legs, toppling him to the floor. Jenna hastily let down the barrier around the tavern, and began to chant even before she turned to grab Egon. By the time Dalamar had righted himself, sorceress and boy had vanished.

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Jenna sat serenely with her legs crossed on a large rock, waiting. She did not wait long.

The black-robed wizard who materialized in front of her was in a cold fury. "Where is the boy?" he said without preamble.

"Beyond your reach," Jenna replied.

"You have betrayed Wayreth."

"Not at all," she answered. "Surprisingly enough, young Egon was more disposed towards sharing information away from your presence than in it. He knew no names, but there should be enough here to convince House Mystic that Wayreth was not behind the attack, and to give us new directions in which to search." She handed him the scroll case containing her report, prepared while she was waiting for Dalamar to track her magically, as she knew he would. Dalamar took the case suspiciously and stowed it within his cloak.

"This does not alter the fact that you disobeyed me, that you dared attack me."

"I apologize for that, my lord, but it was unavoidable."

"Unavoidable?" Dalamar raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Young woman, do you realize that you have committed treason?"

Jenna drew in her breath. "I have disobeyed you. I do not believe I have endangered Wayreth. And I know that Lunitari is not displeased that I chose mercy when severity was unnecessary. Nevertheless," she rose, and placed her hands in her sleeves, "I am prepared to face whatever consequences you deem appropriate for my actions."

"Then there remains only one option open to you."

"What is that, my lord?"

"Wake up."


	4. Chapter 4

Jenna's eyes flew open. She was laying on a cot. Dalamar was sitting beside her.

"Congratulations, magi," he said gently. "You passed."

"I passed?" she repeated dazedly.

"Yes, and you're Lunitari's."

Jenna attempted to sit up, but Dalamar prevented this with a hand on her shoulder. "Easy, magi. You are not yet recovered. Take a few moments to realize where you are."

Jenna allowed her head to sink back into the pillow and closed her eyes. What was going on? She had been - Dalamar had been about to kill her. She opened her eyes again. The black-robed wizard seemed far less angry than he had...moments before? In fact, he looked pleased with her.

She began to take stock of her surroundings. She was inside a clean, simple room with white-washed walls. The light came from globes containing mage-fire. She realized that she was wearing a long red robe, not the trousers and tunic she had been wearing. She hadn't seen that robe since...since she had taken the Test.

"The Test! That was the Test?"

"Yes, and you did quite well. What can you remember?"

"I - well, you were quite angry with me." Dalamar smiled at that. "I killed men. I took lives." A thought struck her. "But that happened in the Test, which means I don't truly have blood on my conscience, do I?"

"What does your heart tell you?"

Jenna took a deep breath. "That I am a murderer, that I am capable of killing..."

"In service to Wayreth," the wizard added. "We have need of mages such as you. You will learn to live with the guilt in time."

"At least I saved the boy." But as she said that, doubt assailed her, and a dark fear clenched her stomach.

"Did you, now?"

Memories suddenly came flooding back, threatening to overwhelm Jenna. The boy was dead at Dalamar's hand. Jenna had been no more than fifteen herself at the time. She had been in that tavern, but crouched in a corner. She had not taken part in the fight. When Dalamar began to torture the boy, Jenna fled.

She had been to that village before. The massacre of mages had occured, but it was not only Qualinesti who had died.

Katyana. Her own foster-sister had been among the missing. Not only Dalamar, but Dunbar and Jenna's own father had set out to discover what had happened. Jenna had gone out on her own, driven by concern and wilfulness. It was she who had first discovered the severed arm, and her scream that alerted the three wizards. And it had been Jenna, again on her own, who had tracked the murderers to that cursed tavern. But she'd had no powerful spells at her command then, and could not fight the mercenaries. It had been Dalamar who found her and saved her, and Dalamar who had slaughtered those men before her eyes.

It was on that day that the friendship of Justarius and Dalamar died.

It had been a tramatic time for all in Wayreth, but Dalamar and Jenna had borne the brunt of it. Why had the wizard chosed that episode to revisit in her Test? Her right hand strayed to the necklace she wore, Katyana's necklace which had been her coming of age gift from Justarius, and which Dunbar had found amidst the bodies to give to Jenna as a remembrance of her friend.

Dalamar took her left hand in his, and the sorceress noted the unspoken compassion in his eyes. He had suffered as well.

Jenna sat up, and Dalamar rose to allow her to swing her legs over the side of the cot. She still felt quite disoriented, but it was time to face the world.

"About my earlier defiance - " the mage of Lunitari began.

Dalamar waved away her attempted apology. "It was part of the Test. I take no offence. Besides," he continued with a slight smile, "I fared better than I could have. In my own Test, I killed Ladonna."

"You didn't!" said a shocked Jenna.

"Oh, yes. Ladonna was quite amused." He sighed ruefully. "And she never let me live it down."

It was unusual for mages to share details of their Test. Jenna knew that Dalamar had presented her with a rare gift. Who was this man, so capable of compassion and cruelty, wisdom and ruthlessness, who now knew her to the depths of her soul?

At that moment the door opened, and in came her parents. The normally imperturbable Justarius was visibly anxious until he saw Jenna alive and whole.

"She survived, Justarius," Dalamar said quietly. "She is one of us, and confirmed in your order."

With tears in his eyes, the Head of the Conclave opened his arms and the sorceress ran to her father. Though she had always been closer to her mother, Jenna and Justarius now shared a bond that no one who had not been Tested could understand. When she turned to embrace Melora, she was not aware of the new distance between them, or that her mother had always known that once Jenna took the Test, regardless of the outcome, she would be lost to Melora.

Dunbar came in then, and kissed Jenna on both cheeks, congratulating her. "I'll be setting sail from Ergoth in a week's time..."

"Jenna Deleon will need at least a month to recover and is excused from all duties as well as her studies for that time," Dalamar interjected.

"Of course," Dunbar responded curtly. "As I was saying, I set sail in a week, and winter is no time to be learning shipboard life. If it is agreeable to you, apprentice, I'd like to begin your training next spring.

"Yes, of course, Master Dunbar," answered Jenna. "It shall be as you say." Jenna had forgotten that she was an apprentice now. She did not look forward to living aboard Master Dunbar's "Floating Tower," as his boat was called, for two years. However, as she had survived the Test, she knew she could survive anything.

"Do not linger at sea overlong, my friend," Dalamar cautioned Dunbar. "You do not want to risk breaking contract with such a promising apprentice."

"I know my business," growled Dunbar. "And I would remind you, _old friend_, that is is me to whom this 'promising apprentice' is contracted."

Were the two wizards fighting for the privilege of training her? Well, that was flattering, and it gave the sorceress much to ponder.

But not now. Jenna was extremely fatigued, and felt as if she could barely stand. Her mother saw her wavering and put an arm about her to support her. Jenna gratefully leaned back against Melora.

"Gentlemen," Melora broke in sharply. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take care of my daughter."

"Of course, my lady," answered a contrite Dunbar.

"Forgive me, my lady," Dalamar responded. Looking at Jenna, he said, "I congratulate you again on your success, young magi. Go and celebrate with your family."

"Thank you, my lord," she said, and her gratitude was for far more than his kind words.

Then her parents were ushering her out of the room. She was content to bask in her triumph and allow her parents to take care of her for now. For now.


End file.
